Missing You
by Profound Yaoi
Summary: Dean falls asleep, curled around Castiel's old trench coat nearly every night since his death.  Warning: homoerotic lime; profanity  Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters.


Tears streamed down Dean's face as he curled into himself on the motel bed, Castiel's trench coat grasped tightly in his fists.

_It's all my fault. If I'd done something to stop him… if I'd been better – stronger – he wouldn't have gone so far!_ He squeezed his eyes closed, hugging the coat to himself even tighter.

It had been only days since Castiel had died. Dean missed the nerdy little bastard like crazy. His chest ached and his eyes burned. He still half expected to hear the familiar rustling of wings and gravelly greeting the angel always uttered. And knowing he'd never hear that again, he was miserable. He just knew, somehow, that without Cas, his soul ached.

He prayed and prayed, but never received a reply. Castiel was gone.

000

Over the weeks, Dean started taking Castiel's trench coat with him in the Impala.

Sam never said anything about it; even when he wore it once.

Every night, Dean would curl up with the old coat and will himself to sleep. He didn't care what Sam might have thought. He just wanted his angel back.

000

When Bobby died, Dean was overcome with grief. He began drinking heavily; often until he passed out.

Sam was out buying food when it happened; the sound of Castiel's deep, gravelly voice woke him from his alcohol-induced slumber.

"Hello, Dean," the throaty greeting startled him awake. He shot up in bed, knife in-hand.

"Cas?" He groaned, not completely awake, until, eyes wide, "Cas!" he launched himself at the nerd-angel, nearly tackling him to the floor with the sudden move. He wrapped his arms around his friend's neck, crushing him into a fierce hug. "Oh, God… Cas!" he sobbed, burying his face into Castiel's throat.

Castiel held Dean, allowing the human to cling to him. He raised a hand to Dean's back, rubbing his spine soothingly.

"Cas, you son of a bitch! I thought you were dead!" he pulled away, locking eyes with the angel.

"I apologise if I made you worry, Dean," he replied. "I had errands to run," he gave the usual head-tilt.

"Cas, you arsehole! You were fine this whole time? I should punch you in your face!" But even as he threatened violence, Dean held on tightly, burying his face into the pale throat once more.

They sat there on the motel bed, wrapped in each other for a long time.

Every so often, Dean would sob and hold the angel tightly for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas said after the third time.

The hunter squeezed one more time, placing a tentative kiss on the tear -stained throat he'd been hiding his face in; trailing kisses to the chapped lips before he could second-guess himself.

His hands tangled into the dark mess of hair, pulling the angel closer. When he pulled away for air, Castiel spoke.

"Dean, I—" but he was cut off with another kiss.

Dean knew it was probably wrong, but all he could really think was, _why didn't I do this before?_ And now that he had him back, he wasn't going to miss his chance.

Slowly, he pulled Castiel over him, by the lapels of his business jacket, laying atop the trench coat.

Castiel's hands cupped his face, holding him so tenderly; like no one else had ever before. He turned his face into a hand, kissing the palm, before leaning in for another kiss, tasting his angel more thoroughly.

Soon, their kisses and caresses led to rubbing. Their crotches aligned; erections staining against the fabric of their clothes making their movements become desperate; their breathing shallow.

Dean slipped a hand down, caressing Castiel's arousal over the work slacks. He rubbed and stroked until he was satisfied the angel above him was eager for more.

He loved the small gasps escaping the other's throat; the desperate thrusts into his hand.

Taking his hand away, he was rewarded with a disappointed groan against his neck, where his angel had buried his face.

"Dean – "

"Shhh," he kissed the temple, deftly unfastening the belt and fly, before slipping his hand inside, pulling out the angel's erection, weighing it in his hand; stroking firmly. The throaty gasps and groans returned; Castiel fisting his shirt, thrusting his hips to meet Dean's hand.

The pulse in Castiel's prick throbbed against his hand, twitching whenever he flicked his wrist just-so; needy sounds echoing in his ears and sending shots of pleasure straight to his groin.

When he groped and fondled the heavy sac, Castiel's hips jerked wildly, a surprised 'ungh!' escaping his lips, only to be swallowed by Dean as he clashed their mouths together.

Suddenly, he was pleasantly surprised by Castiel's hand mimicking his own; rubbing him over his jeans. "Ungh… Cas, take it out," he groaned hoarsely. It was almost too much.

He let out a moan when his cock was released; the angel's warm hand curling around him; slow, firm strokes building in pace, taking him further towards his peak.

He pulled Castiel even closer, so they lay flush together, their arousals rubbing frantically; hands exploring as much as possible, peeling layers of clothing from hot, sweaty flesh.

Soon, they were naked, rutting together, mouths locked in a deep kiss. As their thrusts became more erratic, their kisses became shallow; peppered over cheeks and eyes and foreheads as they frotted against one another.

Dean couldn't bear it; he needed more friction. He grasped one of Castiel's hands, bringing it down to his cock, encouraging the angel to stroke his length. In turn, he curled his fingers around Castiel, pumping him furiously.

Deep, breathy moans and short, sharp gasps mixed with impatient grunts, echoing around the room, mingling with the squeak of the mattress springs.

All too soon, yet not quickly enough, it was over.

They came, one after the other, wordless cries spilling over bruised lips; moans of completion swallowed by the other's kisses as they rode their orgasm, lazily grinding together.

"Dean…" Cas' husky murmur floated to his ear, almost rousing him from the post-coital doze. "Dean," it came again… but was somehow different. "Dean!" Suddenly, Sam's voice was shouting at him, waking him completely. "Dude, come on. I bought dinner." He shook his brother by the foot – still in its boot.

As he sat up, Dean noticed he was still clutching Castiel's old trench coat; an uncomfortably-sticky wet, patch of warmth between his legs.

000

_A/N: Dedicated to egg10rru because she's patient and forgiving. :3_


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